


Taken

by LadySilviana



Category: The Magicians (TV), The Magicians - Lev Grossman
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Boys In Love, Boys Kissing, Canon Bisexual Character, Canon Gay Character, Established Relationship, Eventual Smut, First Time Blow Jobs, Jealousy, Light Angst, M/M, Misunderstandings, NSFW, queliot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-10
Updated: 2017-11-10
Packaged: 2019-01-31 11:03:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12680574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadySilviana/pseuds/LadySilviana
Summary: Both Eliot and Quentin struggle with some new experiences that come along with their relationship. Eliot finds himself fighting off some unwanted attention from previous partners, which results in unfortunate misunderstandings and makes Quentin confront some jealousy issues.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Well not everything can be peaches and cream all the time right? They have to have some issues.  
> I don't own the Magicians, etc.

One thing that Eliot was having to get used to fast was thwarting advances. It had been a long time since he had to refuse this many offers on a regular basis and, as it turned out, plenty of boys kept coming around expecting the regular treatment. Eliot’s cold demeanour was ill received and the shocking revelation that he was now, to put frankly “taken,” was met with raised eyebrows and disbelieving laughs. Surely, this must be a bluff. Taken? Why, but the Eliot they knew was as free as a bird, unhindered by such unnecessary constraints as fidelity, flying always on the wings of fickle desire.

When Eliot did assure them that he was quite serious, thank you very much, they were noticeably disappointed. And how not? He knew he did what he did better than anyone else on this campus.

The next question that followed was, naturally, _who_? And if Eliot thought the responses to his changed status were an overwhelming consensus of surprise, it was nothing to the reaction he got when he told them who he was with.

Eliot took the shock with as good a grace as ever; he always did enjoy being unpredictable.

However what he did not enjoy was that not everyone took his decision to be serious seriously, which made him wonder for the first time about how his former lovers had perceived him in the first place.

Telling people no twice, sometimes three consecutive times, was irritating in and of itself, yet on top of that Eliot was finding himself in strange waters with Quentin. It’s not like he minded waiting, however it was an unprecedented experience for him and Eliot didn’t know how to handle it. He felt like time had rewound and he was a teenager again, reliving something that should have happened in high school. That is to say, there was a whole lot of really hot make out sessions that somehow never made it to the pants-off-stage. On the one hand, the sexual frustration was a fun and novel experience; on the other, Eliot was fraying at the edges and feeling like he was about to combust.

Eliot was preoccupied with this train of thought while sitting on a bench near Woof fountain, a small light hovering around his head to dispel the darkness. Evening had fallen and the campus was largely devoid of activity, so he was alone. He had his nose in a textbook, trying to concentrate on the material, but his physiological conundrum was getting the better of him and he was tapping his heel repeatedly on the ground. Occasionally, Eliot would throw impatient looks over at the staircase leading down from the school entrance. It was well past nine and Quentin should be wrapping up his lab work with Alice any minute and meeting him here, after which they would head to the Cottage for some studying. Or rather they would attempt studying but wind up wrestling around on a bed, tugging each other’s shirts off and exploring everywhere above the belt with their lips.

“Hey, Eliot,” a coy voice said and someone sat beside him on the bench. Eliot looked up and his eyes locked on a pretty red-haired boy in a white polo shirt, tight shorts and tennis shoes. Eliot could tell that _that_ conversation was about to take place _again_ and inwardly prepared himself for it.

“Hi, Eric,” Eliot put on his best bored voice and turned his face down towards the book again in a show of disinterest.

The ploy didn’t work.

“Haven’t seen you around at the Illusionist parties much these days,” the boy was saying.

“I’ve been rather preoccupied,” Eliot didn’t look up from his book.

“Oh, yes. I heard the rumour on campus,” Eric scooted closer to him on the bench. “What’s his name again? Coldwater is it?

“Quentin, yes,” Eliot moved away, realizing that he had reached the edge of the bench.

“Hmm, he’s cute in a broody, awkward kind of way, I guess,” Eric shrugged. “But how long is that really going to last, El?” Eliot could almost feel the boy’s breath on his neck. This was escalating quickly and he knew he had to put an end to it fast. The last thing he needed was for Quentin to show up right about now and get the wrong idea.

Eliot lifted his head from the book once more, dispelling his floating light, and gave Eric a dead-eyed stare.

“Longer than a couple of drunken one night stands,” he said coldly and began to rise from the bench.

He didn’t expect Eric to grab him about the waist the way he did and forcefully pull him back down.

“Get your hands off of me,” Eliot pushed back but Eric just tightened his grip around him in a suffocating embrace. Eliot remembered too late that this guy was into some martial arts so his grip was iron tight. Eliot felt anger well up inside him; the dangerous kind; the kind that threatened to shatter his control over his power. He forced himself to breath. One push in the wrong direction and this could turn ugly.

“I bet he doesn’t do the things I did to you,” Eric leaned his face in closer. “Tell me, Eliot- does he make you his bitch the way you like it?”

“Look- I said get the fuck off. I don’t want to have to hurt you, but I will if you don’t let go. _Now._ ” He hissed the last, threatening.

“Oh, you wouldn’t use your power on _me_ -”

“Eliot- the fuck!!?”

That last was from Quentin who had unfortunately chosen this particular moment to show up, standing open mouthed at the end of the staircase. His expression was equal parts shock and anger. Eliot felt a sinking feeling in his stomach, all of a sudden aware of just how bad his current position looked.

That was the last straw for Eliot. A silent blast sent Eric flying through the air at full speed with a look of sudden terror on his face. Eliot heard a thud as the man’s body hit the ground but he did not stop to look back. Adrenaline pumping through his veins, Eliot rushed towards Quentin, who was steadily backing away from him, shaking his head.

“Quentin,” Eliot began carefully, locking his eyes on the younger man’s. “This isn’t what it looks like.”

“Oh yeah?” Quentin was still backing away from him, eyebrows raised, “cause it kinda looked like you just had some other guy’s hands all over you.”

“No, please, let me explain-” Eliot reached out his hand, trying to grasp Quentin’s arm but the younger magician shook him off.

“You know what, Eliot? I’m not in the mood right now,” Quentin turned away from him and began briskly walking away towards the Cottage.

“Quentin, wait!” Eliot started out after him.

“Not so fast, Mr. Waugh,” someone had grabbed unto the back of his sleeve. “I’m afraid you are going for a visit to the Dean’s office to explain a few things.”

Eliot looked around and faced Professor Sunderland.

 _This fucking day just keeps getting better and better_ , he thought morbidly as he was being lead away back towards the university, casting a longing look at Quentin’s retreating form.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eliot hastens to find Quentin and explain things while Quentin feels bad about rushing off the way he did. They have to make up after all.

It was nearing midnight when Eliot got back to the Cottage, the ordeal with Eric, Sunderland and the Dean thankfully resolved. He stormed in, throwing open the door savagely, angry and intent on finding Quentin. The murmur of voices from the common area stopped when he strode in and the few people gathered there gave him wide-eyed looks. A quick glance around the room told Eliot that the person he was looking for wasn’t there but he did notice Margo and Alice sitting on one of the couches.

“Where is Q?” Eliot asked sharply, walking over to them.

The two young women exchanged weary glances after taking in the sight of him. Eliot could look quite intimidating when something forcibly stripped off his cool demeanour.

“Is everything ok, El?” Margo asked cautiously.

“Peachy, love. Now please cut the questions and just tell me if either of you have seen him?”

“He’s out in the back, being more emo than usual,” Margo said after a pause. “What’s happening with you two?”

“Later,” Eliot blew her off, already heading outside to the back of the Cottage.

It was still autumn at Brakebills, an unusually warm one at that, so there was barely any chill in the night air. Once on the porch, Eliot looked around, squinting in the dark until he finally noticed Quentin slumped on one of the recliners out on the lawn, the light of the half full moon casting a shadow over his form. Taking a breath in, Eliot walked over to him, his anger at the situation fading, rapidly replaced with guilt. He knew it wasn’t actually his fault, but he ended up feeling guilty anyway. Quentin watched him approach without moving, his legs stretched out and crossed at the ankles, hands clasped loosely in his lap. Once Eliot reached him, he found himself oddly tongue tied, so they ended up just staring at each other for several long moments.

“Q, I’m sorry-” Eliot began finally.

“Look, I’m sorry-” Quentin started speaking at the same time as him.

“Wait? What?” Eliot fell to his knees on the ground beside the recliner, for once entirely unconcerned about potential grass stains on his beige pants. “Why are you sorry?”

“I saw what I saw and I didn’t want to listen to your explanation,” Quentin sat up, leaning over and grasping Eliot’s hands in his own. “I was too quick to assume that you might...well, you know.”

“I know. But I wouldn’t, Q. Out there at the fountain, Eric had just grabbed me and... it was a shock. I told him to let me go and I threatened him,” Eliot explained. “But it’s dangerous for me to let my power go when I am angry. I could end up killing someone and that scares me.”

“Yeah, but you sent him flying afterwards anyway,” Quentin smirked.

“Because when I saw you standing there all upset like that I didn’t give a damn anymore,” Eliot brought up one of Quentin’s hands to his lips, pressing a warm kiss to the other’s palm.

“S-so, umm- you didn’t-uh,”

“Kiss him? Gods, no. The guy practically forced himself on me,” Eliot was kissing each one of Quentin’s knuckles in turn as he said this. “Which is actually why Henry let me get away with telekinetically blasting his ass. I was let off on the grounds that his actions qualified as sexual harassment. So he is the one that has to face the consequences. On top of that he’s got a broken arm, so I can’t imagine he’ll be grabbing anyone else any time soon.”

Quentin smiled but from the way he chewed his lip Eliot could tell that there was something else on his mind.

“Q?” Eliot moved closer and grabbed the younger man about the waist.

“It’s just that...” Quentin shook his head and his long hair tickled Eliot’s face. “I have been trying to pretend like I hadn’t noticed it, you know? All those guys coming around and hitting on you. I don’t doubt you, really. I can see that you’ve been shutting them down. But I’m still.. well, I’m-”

“Jealous?” Eliot finished for him and couldn’t suppress a small smile from playing on his lips.

“Yes. I’m jealous. And honestly I don’t know how to handle it,” Quentin had tightened their embrace, tangling his fingers in Eliot’s locks. “I’ve never been jealous like this before. I mean, I was jealous when Julia started dating James. But it was different because I never really had her in the first place. This is like... possessive jealous. Like I don’t want anyone else to touch you kind of jealous.”

“I feel the same way you know,” Eliot chuckled into Quentin’s shoulder.

“What? What would you have to be jealous about?”

“Oh, please. All those late night study sessions with Alice? I see how she looks at you. If we weren’t together I’d wager that you’d end up with her by the end of the year.”

Quentin pulled back with a laugh.

“You know I am not going to do anything,” he said.

“I know. I trust you.”

Their heads had moved together after that, lips closing the distance between them and erasing any ugliness that has passed before. They merged with a warm clash of tongues, tasting of sharp longing and a desire to possess and be possessed. Quentin’s hands were clenching in Eliot’s hair, his kiss urgent and filled with a kind of rawness that was entirely new. Eliot pressed into him, squeezing his arms around Quentin’s waist. He could feel his knees getting wet from where they dug into the moist ground, probably irreparably ruining his pants, as he slid his hands under Quentin’s shirt and ran his fingers along the other’s back. Then he was getting pulled up and forward, somehow falling beside Quentin unto the recliner. It was a tight fit and mildly uncomfortable, with the recliner’s sharp arm digging into his side. Quentin had thrown his leg over Eliot’s hip, locking his ankle behind his waist and using the leverage to pull the taller man in closer against him. Eliot rocked his hips in response, his body coming alive with a passionate fever that made him tremble. Quentin felt his reaction and it made him gasp in between their locked lips, the hands tugging at Eliot’s hair tightening sharply enough to bring tears to his eyes.

The next moment, Quentin was turning them until he was on top of Eliot, straddling him. The unfortunate piece of lawn furniture creaked loudly in protest and buckled under their weight, making them look up.

“I think we might want to relocate,” Eliot suggested. “These things are not made to hold up two people.”

“Hmmm, hold on. I was just practising a spell for strengthening objects in class.” Quentin sat up on top of Eliot and, after several moments of concentration, did the incantation. “Was that right?” He looked back at the man under him.

“I don’t know, it’s too dark to see your gestures clearly, but the vocals sounded right.”

“I suppose there’s only one way to find out,” Quentin leaned down to kiss him, thrusting hard with his hips as he did so. The recliner moved under them but held up and they both laughed.

“Why Quentin, what are you going to do to me?”

In response, Quentin brought one hand down between his legs and grasped his length. Eliot felt his cock twitch at the touch, hardening swiftly under the firm grip of Quentin’s fingers. Eliot held his breath, not daring to move lest it somehow made Quentin lose his nerve. Quentin showed no such intention, however, continuously stroking him until Eliot’s erection strained achingly against his palm. Eliot closed his eyes, whimpering, and waited for that moment when Quentin would call it quits for the night, not daring to hope that there would be more. Instead he heard his belt clasp click open and felt the sudden caress of night air whisper across his freshly exposed skin. The weight on top of him shifted and slid down, pulling off his pants and briefs along the way, as Quentin settled between his legs.

There was a pause and an intake of breath as Quentin contemplated what he was about to do.

“Q-” Eliot’s eyes snapped open and he was about to sit up but Quentin held him in place.

“Eliot. Shut up, please.”

Then Quentin’s lips were wrapping around the head of his cock, his tongue flicking slowly across the tip. It was a subtle gesture, experimental and cautious, but it made Eliot shudder all over and weakly collapse back into the recliner. Quentin’s mouth tightened around his head, creating delicious suction while his hand grasped the base of Eliot’s erection and began to pump it steadily. Eliot gasped and felt his cock leak spurts of precum into Quentin’s mouth, dissolving over his tongue as he licked it up. With a big intake of breath, Quentin forced his mouth open wider and bobbed his head, taking in more of Eliot’s throbbing length. He worked his way up and down the shaft several times, coating it with slick wetness and making Eliot’s cock quiver each time his bottom lip dragged along its underside. Eliot had to restrain himself from thrusting hard into the other’s mouth, forcing Quentin to swallow him whole, knowing it would be a while before he could handle the entire thing. He settled for gently running his hands through Quentin’s hair, settling them on the back of the younger man’s head and holding it in place as he began to move his hips, slipping himself in and out of Quentin’s mouth.

Quentin let Eliot guide him while he got used to the feeling of the other’s stiff cock forcing open his mouth wider and wider. Then Eliot’s dripping head hit the back of Quentin’s throat, making the young man gag and gasp. Eliot pulled back out, uncertain for a moment as to whether Quentin liked that or not and letting him catch his breath. The moon had shifted, outlining Quentin’s face in its soft light, his hair splayed out on Eliot’s bare thighs.

“You can keep doing that,” Quentin’s whispered. His slightly parted lips were wet and shining and something about the way he flicked his tongue across them made Eliot lose it. He ran the tip of his cock slowly around those soft, moist lips, enjoying the sight of it, before forcing them open and plunging his length in deep with one smooth stroke. Quentin chocked, but didn’t pull away, allowing Eliot to thrust harder and harder into his face, the force of each impact bringing tears to his eyes.

“Relax your throat,” Eliot commanded softly, feeling that he was close. Quentin obeyed, slowly relaxing and breathing through each thrust, until Eliot could feel an ease at the back of his throat that allowed him to fill it with his cock. The warm, slick muscles contracted around his shaft and Eliot let his release wash over him with a deep moan, allowing the grip of Quentin’s mouth to milk him dry. The sudden gush of hot fluid spurting down his throat made Quentin’s eyes widen in surprise, but he caught on quickly, stroking the underside of Eliot’s cock with his tongue, massaging it until every last drop had filled his mouth, swallowing everything.

After they broke apart, Eliot sat up, grabbing Quentin and pulling him into his lap without bothering to pull his pants up. Quentin was panting and coughing, his body trembling slightly in Eliot’s arms, which themselves felt gelatinous like the rest of him. Quentin wrapped his arms around Eliot’s neck, kissing him breathlessly in between coughs. Eliot kissed him back with satisfied fervour, fresh lust flooding his body when he tasted himself on Quentin’s lips and felt the younger man’s own arousal against his stomach.

“That,” Quentin said hoarsely, “... that was... awesome.”

“Mmmhmm,” Eliot purred against his mouth. “It really was, doll. I’m glad you enjoyed it as much as I did.” He refrained from relaying his surprise at just how well Quentin managed to handle oral sex for the first time.

They were still for several long moments, holding each other in the half-light of the moon, the night gathered around them like a deep, dark blanket.

“You know I was kind of a dick,” Quentin said after a while thoughtfully. “If that guy was harassing you, I should have probably kicked his ass or something.”

Eliot couldn’t help but laugh at that.

“You know one reason I like you, Q, is that you’re not a brutish imbecile,” he replied, pecking Quentin’s forehead. “I am flattered at the idea, but I can definitely handle myself if it’s needed. If you really want people to back off, perhaps a bit more PDA might do the trick.”

“I think I am cool with being all over you in public,” Quentin nodded in agreement, smiling brightly.

“Good,” Eliot said and shifted Quentin’s weight on top of him. “Now that that’s settled, we should get unto other business.”

“What other business?”

Eliot flipped them around on the recliner until Quentin was pinned under him.

“The business of taking care of you,” he whispered, pulling up Quentin’s shirt and licking a trail down his lower abdomen. “I’d like to see just how long this strengthening spell you cast on the recliner holds up.”


End file.
